


they would rue the day i was alone without you

by smallredboy



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Marriage, Memory Palace, Post-Fall (Hannibal), References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:20:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25539424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: Will discusses his thoughts on a wedding with Hannibal.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 56
Collections: Froday Flash Fiction Little & Monthly Specials 2020, Gen Prompt Bingo Round 18





	they would rue the day i was alone without you

**Author's Note:**

> **fffc's 100th special:** wedding  
>  **gen prompt bingo:** the mind's eye
> 
> the hades/persephone symbolism in canon makes me go crazy. that one scene in the s3 finale also makes me go crazy. so here.
> 
> title from lana del rey's _off to the races_.
> 
> enjoy!

"You know," Will starts one day, while they're in bed, months after the fall. "When I went to my memory palace before the Red Dragon attacked the FBI vans we were in, I kept seeing that church."

Hannibal commented once about the Palermo Church being his memory palace's starting point, and he's copied that. They're a mirror of each other, _you and I have begun to blur_ and whatnot. It's easy to blur into one another, when they are already just alike.

"That was your memory palace's blueprint too, Will?"

"Yes," he replies. He swallows. "I imagined people there, people I didn't know, and I pictured you at the altar."

Hannibal turns to look at him, eyes widened, just a fraction. "Are you implying…?"

He has a lump in his throat. The memories, how _real_ it felt, even though he knew it was only in his imagination, plagues him. It almost feels like it was real— somewhere, in some universe, it was very real. He can hear the bells ringing. "It felt like being wed off," he replies. "It felt like a marriage, because I knew what was going to happen. I knew you'd break free, and I knew what would happen. Or what was most likely to happen."

Hannibal's face is flushed red, just a tad. "So you pictured yourself like you were being married off?" He tilts his head, looks at him, sees him. "Like you were being married off to me?"

"Yes." He clears his throat. "Locked into the underworld."

"You've no longer got the six months in the surface," he comments. "There is no spring and summer now. Only the fall and winter." 

"I ate twelve pomegranate seeds, I suppose." Will leans in and kisses him, slow and soft. "We do fit the tale. You forced me into the underworld, Hannibal."

"In other versions of the tale, Persephone goes into the underworld in her own accord," he replies into his mouth, tugs at his bottom lip. "I think we are a mix of all the versions. I may have to buy some pomegranates."

"You frequently had pomegranates lying around on your dinners, you can't fool me," Will teases. "Always fancied yourself as Hades, huh?"

"I suppose so," he says. "He's the god of the dead, not the god of death."

"You rule over plenty of dead people," Will jokes, pulls him into another kiss. "I wish we could have a proper wedding."

Hannibal hums. "I believe our mind palace's version of it will have to suffice, for now. Perhaps when we manage to get citizenship at a country where our marriage is legalized, we can have a wedding of our own."

"Serving pomegranates?"

"And various cuts of meat, of course."

Will laughs. It's a hearty, full-body laugh. He's filled with so much love for Hannibal it hurts— with his Greek references that he's started to do as well, with his pretentiousness, with his murder and cannibalism, with his bloodlust. He's been molded right as Hannibal likes him, and he drove them off a cliff to try and stop them from reaching their full becoming. Now they've both got a limp and scars over their bodies from the jagged rocks of the bluffs, but it doesn't matter.

They're together, and that's all that matters.

And maybe some day they'll get their very own wedding in their very own underworld.

(That night, he dreams of a dark, dark church, bells ringing and the taste of pomegranate seeds in his mouth. Blood drips from Hannibal's mouth, and none of the guests seem to mind.)


End file.
